Please Remember Me
by OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles
Summary: Arthur has fallen into limbo and Eames must bring him back. Arthur/Eames


***AUG 18, 2012 NOTICE* FFnet took down 25 of my stories because they deemed the content 'inappropriate'. Because of this, any story I post with this notice at the beginning will be censored and incomplete. I will have edited it to make it suitable for FFnet and will still be a 'story', but in my opinion the quality will be decreased. I have either taken out scenes for sexual content or violence. If you would like to read the full story, which I strongly recommend, you can do so on AO3 here:  archiveofourown(dot-org)/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles. **

**At least 50% of my stories cannot be reposted on FFnet because they will be removed again and I could get banned. I strongly encourage you to simply bookmark my AO3 page and read all my stories there. You can also follow me on Tumblr for story update news, here: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)**

**Thank you.**

* * *

**Please Remember Me**

An Inception fan fiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or the characters.

Warning: Spoilers. M/M pairing

Rating: M

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Word count: ~8500

Note: This isn't a songfic, but I did get this idea when listening to the song "Please Remember Me"

Summary: Arthur has fallen into limbo and Eames must bring him back. Arthur/Eames

* * *

Arthur sat comfortably on his balcony overlooking the shoreline, a book spread open on his lap and a steaming cup of coffee sitting on the small table beside him. He held down the pages with one hand as the salty breeze coming off the coast rustled them. Every couple of page turns Arthur would lift his head slightly to skim the beach before returning his attention to the book; a habit that had been with him for most of his life even though he could not remember the origin.

It was quiet, as usual, with only the sound of the surf accompanying him. Sometimes he felt that he should move into the city, which could be seen from the windows on the far side of the house. He would be surrounded by people and sounds once again. But he was never determined enough to ignore the sense that he was meant to stay along this shoreline.

He didn't understand this need to stay by the shore; to watch and to wait, but for what? He knew it was something important, something he had long since forgotten, but now only the initial impulse to scan the shorelines remained. Nonetheless he stayed by the shore, lifting his eyes briefly while fingering the handle of his coffee cup.

Arthur was startled out of his musings by the sound of yelling down on the cliffs rimming the sand and waves. He hissed in pain as some of the burning coffee fell onto his wrist, dropping the cup while focused on using his opposite sleeve to mop up the hot coffee before it caused further damage.

It had been so long that he no longer considered looking over the side of his chair for a coffee cup that no longer existed, nor wondered why he never heard the porcelain shatter on the balcony's tiles.

Instead he stood to peer over his balcony's rails in time to see two of his militarized guards rushing down the edge of the cliffs to a section of beach further down the coast. Arthur's fingers turned white as he gripped the railing, a bolt of nerves and excitement coursing through his body even though he could not fathom why. He forced himself to let go of the cool metal and retreat into his house in order to change out of his coffee-stained dress shirt.

As he began buttoning up his new shirt he let the heavy door of his walk-in closet click shut, offering a full length mirror opposite Arthur. He watched himself work with mild interest as he finished with the buttons of his shirt and snaked a tie around his neck. He took note of his hair that was now nearly entirely white, and of his hands, which were now slightly wrinkled despite still being sturdy and capable.

He replaced his vest and smoothed it down, watching his hands travel slowly and then meeting his reflection's gaze. Arthur tended to ignore mirrors these days, never quite able to remember how so many years had passed. What was he now, sixty? Maybe a little older, but Arthur admitted to himself that he was not sure. "Where have these years gone?" he asked his reflection quietly. It felt like he had been alive for lifetimes and yet his appearance as an old man seemed out of place, wrong.

"Sir, we pulled a man out of the water along the southern shore. He's asking for you," one of Arthur's guards entered the room quietly, emotionless.

He watched the guard in the mirror, no longer wondering why the man seemed like a one dimensional shadow. The question had flitted around his mind for too many years for him to acknowledge it anymore. Instead he nodded to the reflection, "Take him to the balcony. I will meet with him there."

"Very good, sir," the guard nodded and hurriedly left the room, leaving Arthur alone with his reflection once again. He waited until the guard's footsteps faded before he returned to his balcony, which was still empty. He sat down in his chair once again to wait; coffee and book long since vanished. It was a short time later when two guards appeared, dragging an unconscious form between them and placing him down unceremoniously on the opposite chair. "This is the man we found on the beach."

"Thank you, leave us," Arthur nodded towards the door. The guards looked unhappy about the order but left without argument. Left alone with the unconscious man Arthur took the liberty of looking him over, aware and cautious.

It took a minute, sweeping his eyes over the other man. The man's rumpled suit, ruined by sand and briny ocean water, which was now soaking into the chair and dripping onto the balcony's tile. His brown hair, still somewhat in its orderly style. A thin layer of scruff along that strong jaw. Arthur did not need the man to open his eyes to know that they would be a pale mix of green and blue; he knew who this man was. But as he saw that face, relaxed in unconsciousness, he saw that this man was in his early thirties, which caused Arthur to push past the sense of familiarity and replace it with stiff suspicion.

Arthur reached over to his side table, his fingers grazing along a book he knew would be there that he picked up. There was no sense rushing into action; the man would not be conscious for a time and Arthur might as well figure out why this impostor was here before dealing with him. He flipped the pages mechanically but did not take in the words on the page, instead finding his gaze drawn back to the man across him. Arthur was almost pleased when he heard a quiet groan of consciousness so that he could set the book aside.

He watched silently as the other man came to himself, blinking those beautiful eyes that caught the sun reflecting off the waves. Another groan and the man gripped both arms of his chair to pull himself back into a seated position, cradling his head afterwards in obvious pain. Arthur waited until finally those eyes lifted cautiously and met his own brown ones. "Bloody hell, darling! You got old!"

Arthur felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, an automatic reaction he had not needed to stifle for a very long time. "And I see you have not matured beyond a preteen, even now," he shot back as if this was something they had rehearsed.

"So you remember who I am, then?" the man's face held a mix of pride and relief as he spoke the words a little hurriedly.

"Yes, Eames," he drawled, a sarcastic boredom in his tone. He saw the other man smirk, however, and immediately chided himself, wiping the sarcasm from his next words, "But I see that you came to me rather young."

"Well yeah, why would I come as anything else?" the man lay back against the chair comfortably. Arthur forced himself not to complete his head shake at this man's mistake, instead letting him continue. "But it's good to know that you remember me, not that I expected you could ever forgot, pet," he winked languidly.

Arthur let out a genuine sigh, indulging himself the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. When he opened his eyes again he realized that the young Eames had not averted his gaze; Arthur could feel the man's eyes tracing his form. "Why did you come here?"

"Well Arthur," Eames pushed himself from the chair and walked over to the railing, glancing around curiously, "I came to bring you back with me."

"Back where?" Arthur asked cautiously, remaining in his seat.

"Back to reality, of course," though Arthur knew that Eames was doing his best to appear calm and nonchalant, he could assess with a short sweep of his eyes the tension in the younger man. Fingers turning pale as they gripped the metal railing, legs ready to jump into action, shoulders and arms nearly vibrating with hidden energy and nerves.

"This _is_ reality," Arthur spoke calmly, as if trying to explain a complex concept to a young child.

Eames scoffed, his eyes not straying from the balcony. "You call _this_ reality? Really now, dare to dream a little bigger, darling."

Arthur stood with an unexplainable anger and need to prove himself welling up inside him. "If you would like to see the rest then follow me," was all he bit out before turning on his heel and disappearing into his house. He heard Eames's heavier footfalls promptly follow his own and he fought down his own victorious smirk.

He led Eames silently through the longest path available to his other balcony created to overlook the city skyline in the distance. Without a word he showed off the exquisite detail of his home, running his own fingers along wooden banisters, leather book covers and a potted plant's leaves, content to feel the truth and stability that they were truly there. This was another habit he could not remember the origin of but indulged anyway.

When the two of them arrived on the far balcony Arthur allowed a proud smile to curve his lips upward at the sound of Eames's whistle. Arthur had never really felt a strong fondness for the city decorating the distance but hearing the shock and approval in that simple sound made him feel like he was glowing. "I'll admit that that is a very impressive city you have there," Eames nodded to him, as if accepting defeat for some bet between them, "But it's still not reality."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Eames, as you could never even fully grasp the idea of a colour scheme," Arthur eased himself into a lounge chair, his eyes trained judgementally on Eames's less than attractively patterned dress shirt. "But even though I do not know the true purpose for you showing up here now, I can assure you that you are a failed projection."

Eames made a choking sound, ready to protest this, but was cut off by the sound of the balcony doors opening with a quiet click. The younger man, now caked in a thin layer of dried salt from the ocean, fell silent as he watched an older man join them on the balcony. What was clearly Eames's reflection but around thirty years older stepped forward, swept his eyes carefully over the younger version of himself, and then turned his attention to Arthur. "Arthur, I thought we were finished with all of these projections, love."

Eames could only gape at the endearment as the older version of him dipped his head down and caught Arthur's lips with his own. It was a short kiss, but one filled with love and familiarity. The younger man's cheeks burned, feeling like an intruder. All of his wit and charm flew directly off the balcony as he saw Arthur's relaxed smile as the two pulled away; he had never seen the man smile like that before.

He tried to regain his composure as Arthur looked over at him before looking up at the older Eames, his lips once again in a hard-pressed line. "I thought we were too as this has not happened in many years. But apparently we were wrong." The younger Eames watched as Arthur stood from the chair, looking everything like a wild animal determining the best angle of attack. "You see, _Eames_," Arthur's dark brown eyes levelled on him harshly, "You miscalculated."

"How do you figure?" Eames bluffed his boldness.

"You came to me in the wrong form, first of all, and at the wrong age no less. Oh don't look so confused," Arthur took a step forward while the older Eames remained standing by the chair. "You think you're the first projection to try and tempt me to suicide? You're not. But at least the others were prepared enough to come in a form that could potentially prove effective."

"I came as I truly am from reality," Eames stated strongly, trying not to let his unease over encountering an older version of himself hamper his convictions on reality.

"No you didn't," Arthur held up a finger to silence Eames, "because Eames, the _true_ Eames standing right over there," he turned his finger to point at the third man, "came here with me and we grew old together. That is how I know you are some failed projection drawn from my memories of a younger time. I don't know why you showed up after so long, but you will not be able to trick me into taking myself away from Eames and reality."

"But you're calling me a projection!" Eames blurted out, floundering in his own confusion. "That means that you know you're dreaming!"

"Nice try, but no," Arthur forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Projections are a side effect of too much dream work, which I wouldn't expect a projection to know so I won't hold it against you."

"Oh how generous of you, pet," Eames bit out sarcastically, for a moment forgetting his current situation as Arthur attacked his intelligence. As soon as he saw Arthur's frown at his tone though he felt a familiar spark of challenge light up inside him. "And while you're dishing out this generosity, how about you give the poor failed projection a chance to prove his case?"

Eames smirked as he saw his challenge wrap around Arthur's mind. What was he worried about? He was the best damned forger any world had ever seen; he could make anyone believe anything he said. Granted, in this case he would need to be extra careful about how he went about it, but he knew the moment he saw Arthur's jaw set, ready to accept the challenge, that he would succeed. "Very well, but only because I'm a naturally generous guy," Arthur graced him with a grin that looked feral. "Convince me not to deal with you permanently."

Eames returned the dangerous smile, "Oh I will. Let's head off to the city then, shall we?"

Arthur nodded and turned, whispering something quietly into the older Eames's ear. He saw the older him smile fondly and steal a quick farewell kiss. Eames stayed by the balcony at feeling his stomach clench at the sight and instead distracted himself with his developing plan. When the two were finished with their goodbyes he followed Arthur silently out of the house and onto a well-kept road. "If you're hoping to convince me by pointing out how odd it is that there is one road leading up to my house with no one living around me save it, others have tried it already."

"Well you have to admit that it is a little odd," Eames matched Arthur's steady pace, wondering how long it would take for them to reach the city on foot since it was a mere decoration of the skyline.

"Money will get you whatever you want no matter how odd," the white haired man stated simply. Eames was both surprised and impressed that Arthur did not struggle to maintain their brisk pace.

They walked in silence from there and Eames focused on how he was going to pull this off. He knew immediately that he would need to get Arthur away from his home on the shore if he wanted a chance. It was clear that the man had spent most of his thirty-something years there; it was probably as close to reality as anything could get here in limbo. His only chance was to cause some sort of disturbance and prove to Arthur that they were in fact in dream space.

He kept this thought in mind as they neared the city's boarders where buildings began to sprout into a glass and metal forest. For a moment he was disoriented by how quickly they had travelled but reminded himself that in dreams perceptions could be distorted. The two of them stopped as one at the edge of an elegant bridge that connected the solid green fields and the city over a calm river. "I'm waiting to be convinced," Arthur smirked, looking over expectantly.

"Anything for you Arthur dear," Eames winked before focusing on pulling a few buildings out of the ground, altering the once elegant bridge and causing soft flakes of snow to fall from a cloudless sky. He was no architect; his skills had always remained in forging personalities and behaviours rather than structures. But he was still able to make the alterations he desired, even if his buildings were a little simple and crude in comparison to Arthur's gorgeously detailed city. He held up a hand to catch some snow, "Now how would all of this be possible if we were not in a dream?"

Eames glanced over and grinned when he saw Arthur's bewildered expression, his own wrinkled hand held out with a small pool of melted snow resting in the palm of his hand. "No one besides me has ever been capable..." he heard the older man whisper to himself.

"Not even older Eames or the other projections?" Eames raised a curious eyebrow.

"No, no one." Arthur's face was controlled to look neutral but Eames could read the tension in his clenched jaw and confusion in his eyes. "Eames has never been able to but I always assumed that was because he showed no interest in it. The other projections who came never even tried...they just talked to me and told me vague warnings without any proof."

"So you'll admit that things like these are only possible in dreams," Eames prodded excitedly.

"What? No, of course not," Arthur's eyes quickly cleared of confusion and met his sharply. "You are the one who is confused. This is the way reality works and you cannot prove to me otherwise. I am merely surprised to have finally met someone else who has this ability."

Eames let out a very loud groan of frustration, "No! This is not how reality works! The only reason we both have this ability is because we are the only two from reality while everyone else is a projection of your mind."

"How can you know?" Arthur questioned quietly.

"I just—I just _do_!" Eames sighed and rubbed his forehead in thought. This wasn't getting him anywhere. "I know because I have lived in reality and in dreams and I know the difference between them."

"But perhaps you are confused; what you believed to be reality was actually the dream and vice versa. Perhaps only now you are truly waking up," Arthur smiled, almost encouragingly. "Do not look so troubled. You are not the first to fail in this argument."

"That's not now it is! This isn't how it's supposed to go..." Eames trailed off, remembering the warnings he had been given before coming down here to find Arthur and bring him home. A lot would be done to try and convince him that this was reality so that he would be unable to consider killing himself to escape. Eames stuffed his hands in his pockets angrily, trying to sort through his now muddled thoughts. He felt a fog roll over his understanding of the distinction between reality and dreams. But then something happened that caused a bolt of clarity to flash through his mind and renew his determination. "Arthur, where is your totem?" he asked strongly, his own fingers brushing the comforting weight of his own hidden away in his pocket.

"What...?" Arthur took a wavering step backwards, suddenly unsure. His smug confidence was lost to an expression one wears when you know that there's something important you've forgotten and are struggling to recall that buried memory.

"Your totem, darling," Eames took a steady step forward, gripping Arthur's arms in his hands to keep him from running away. "Something every dream worker has to test whether you are in a dream or reality. If you will not believe me," he shook Arthur gently, "then let your own totem make the call."

"No one has ever asked me about my…totem before," Arthur spoke the word slowly, as if it held a foreign taste to him.

Eames still didn't understand everything that had happened down here in limbo to Arthur but he could see the flicker of realization in those brown eyes, a tiny spark that needed fanning. "All of the other projections that came to you and all of the other projections here are from your mind, Arthur. They probably came to try and warn you because they knew your mind was not supposed to remain here. But at the same time they were still a part of you, who had blocked the idea of your totem from your mind."

"Perhaps..." Arthur whispered to the thin layer of snow now coating the thin blades of grass.

Not wanting to lose the momentum they had going, Eames pressed on, "Where is your totem?"

"I—I gave it to Eames to hide," Arthur's face was growing pale and it looked like he might be sick as he fought with everything he had believed for over three decades. "But he is his own person; I would not know where to look."

"Arthur, he is a projection from your mind and therefore you were the one who actually hid your totem from yourself."

"Eames is _not_ a projection!" Arthur yelled so loudly and so suddenly that his voice echoed back off the still water of the river. "He came here with me and grew old with me. He loves me!"

Eames swallowed his initial response and tried to remain focus on the main goal. "I know he does, love," he tried to keep his voice steady and calm. "I'm just asking you where you think he would have hidden your totem if he was a projection of your own mind; the first place that springs to mind." He took note of Arthur's suspicious gaze, "Remember that all you have to do is find your totem, test it and prove me wrong and I'll be gone."

Arthur watched him for what felt like minutes and neither of them moved an inch. He knew he was being watched by a calculated eye and this could just as easily crumble to ruins as it could lead the way he was hoping it would. Eventually the older man squared his shoulders, "Then let's go find this totem and be done with your nonsense." He began a quick pace across the altered bridge and into the city, clearly expecting Eames to follow. "He would have hidden it in a vault somewhere with a code only I would know. But this vault wouldn't be in the house, where I spent all my time. It would be as far away from the shore as possible."

"Why far away from the shore?" Eames asked out of genuine curiosity.

"All of my habits centre on the determined feeling that I must remain by the shore and wait for something important. There is not much I would leave the shoreline for." Arthur kept his gaze focused on their path instead of seeking out the other man's.

"You've left the shoreline now..."

"Would you believe me if I said I no longer have that feeling?" Arthur's eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes," Eames smiled. Arthur looked over at him carefully at this response but said nothing as they weaved through Arthur's city. Eames mentally thanked distorted perceptions as they came upon a solitary skyscraper on the far edge of the city. Its height pierced the sky and the glass reflected the deep oranges signalling the approach of sunset.

Arthur led them confidently through the building's main floor lobby as if he owned the place, which he probably did. He waved off the security guards who stepped towards Eames with a 'He's with me' before turning towards the silver doors of an elevator. They stepped inside together and Arthur clicked the button labelled '100' after only a moment's hesitation.

The elevator ride was long and silent. Eames forced a yawn to pop his ears twice on the way up until the doors opened onto the roof of the building. Up here the wind was stronger and he would swear that he could feel the building swaying slightly below his feet. Rather than finding a normal vault like he was expecting, he watched Arthur approach a small stone pedestal with an intricate puzzle box resting on it.

He rolled his eyes for his own benefit and wondered why he had expected anything less from Arthur. The other man had already begun working on the box and Eames could hear the wood mechanisms snapping in and out of place until eventually he heard a 'pop' and the lid clicked open. He came up behind Arthur to find him cradling a blood red die in the palm of his hand. He seemed to study it for a moment and then dropped it onto the stone pedestal.

When the die stilled on the stone Eames did not know how to read the result. The point of a totem was that only you knew how your totem worked to distinguish dreams from reality. But even without understanding how Arthur's totem worked Eames was aware of what the result meant when Arthur turned to him with a look of horror and confusion. Eames waited until Arthur finally met his eye, "Over thirty years," the man finally whispered. "This was my reality for _over_ _thirty years_."

"I know darling, I know," Eames's voice was also quiet as he caught the older man and kept him from falling to his knees, sarcasm and teasing unwelcome at this moment. "But now you know for sure and we can return to reality."

"What? I'm not leaving!" Arthur forcefully shoved Eames back a few steps, pocketing his loaded die in his vest pocket quickly.

"What do you mean? You know this is all just a dream now!" Eames felt a sickly wave of dread crawling up his body.

"This _is_ my reality now, after this long. You're asking me to give up everything I've come to know and believe. A world I created and populated...You're asking me to give up love when I—I never thought I'd find it," Arthur let out a laugh that sounded like a choked sob.

"Arthur," Eames held up both palms like he was trying to calm down a wild animal, "I'm asking you to give up a reality with one city populated with only the shadows of your own mind to keep you company in return for a reality with an entire world filled with individuals. I'm asking you to give up the beliefs you adopted here and return to the beliefs you held before this, all the wiser with your experiences."

Arthur flinched but did not pull away as Eames placed one hand solidly on each of his shoulders. Sturdy and comforting. "And I am asking you to sacrifice the love from a projection in return for the love of your friends and a chance for new love."

"My friends..."

"You didn't think we had forgotten about you, did you? Bloody hell, there wasn't a way for us to even if we tried, pet," Eames found himself joking to keep himself from crying. He caught Arthur's gaze and did not let go, "You better believe that all of your friends are up there _right now_ hovering over our chairs waiting and hoping for me to bring you home. Yusuf and Ariadne, with Saito on call waiting for news. Hell, Cobb nearly smashed me over the head with a chair to come down here after you himself instead of me."

Arthur seemed unable to speak, allowing Eames to slowly lead him over to the railing of the building's roof. He stopped a short distance away, not wanting to look over the drop anymore than Arthur did; he wished now that he hadn't lost his gun on an upper level to get down here. "Also, in case I need to remind you of this fact, _I_ came all the way down here for you and I am bloody well not leaving without you. And you should know that the mere idea of this place scares the shit out of me."

Arthur took a shaky breath and edged closer to the railing, gripping Eames's extended hand so tightly in his own that Eames could feel his nerves tingling. Still, he did not complain and squeezed back nervously. He joined Arthur by the railing and took a deep steadying breath. "I'll be honest with you, Arthur, when I say that I absolutely do not want to jump off this roof." He felt a comforting squeeze from Arthur's hand.

He shivered, only noticing now how cold it was as the sun disappeared below the horizon and moonlight fell across the roof and bathed them in light. "But..." he continued quietly, "I'd be willing to take a leap of faith with you."

"What if we made a mistake and this is actually reality?" Arthur's voice shook.

"At least where we end up we'll be together," Eames pulled Arthur close and kissed him on the forehead. Then he met those nervous brown eyes, "That's all I can promise you, love."

Arthur nodded and they both cautiously stepped over the railing to stand on the outer edge of the roof. They held each other's hand tightly while they both grasped the railing with their free hands. They stared at each other and then Eames looked up at the sky to avoid looking down at the shadowed street far below. "The moon is beautiful tonight," he whispered.

Arthur looked up at the moon as well, shivering in the night breeze. "I don't know...it seems a little faded." Eames looked over at Arthur, who smiled. Eames smiled back and they both let go of the railing at the same time while maintaining their grasp on each other.

For a terrible moment both of them thought that they had made a mistake and that this was reality. But then they felt the world around them ripping apart and crumbling, shards of glass and metal falling beside them as they plummeted. The next moment they felt as if they had been submerged underwater and then finally they opened their eyes and gasped for air, seeing the warehouse and their friends around them.

Ariadne and Cobb handed both men a bucket, which they promptly threw up in from the sense of residue panic, relief, and vertigo. When they were both done Eames shakily got to his feet and shoved everyone out of the way to get to Arthur, who was still lying on his chair. He dropped to his knees, too exhausted to stand, and took Arthur's hand in his own tightly. The man sitting in front of him was now in his early thirties. His styled hair was solid brown once again and his face was smooth and clean shaven. His eyes, Eames noticed, seemed both younger and more alive. He cradled the soft skin against his cheek, noticing the lack of wrinkles, and simply nodded when he heard Arthur's whispered, "Thank you."

"Alright, let's get you both cleaned up," Ariadne's clear voice caught their attention and Eames pulled away slightly even while maintaining his grasp of Arthur's hand. "Eames, we have a change of clothes and everything you need to get freshened up in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I'll take Arthur to his hotel room we have booked so he can get changed and get some food." Both men glared at her as she turned to tell Yusuf to call Saito so he could 'stop fussing'. They shared a look though, knowing they had to get cleaned up and get some food, and reluctantly let go of each others' hands.

Eames disappeared into the warehouse's bathroom to take care of business and took a moment to test his own totem, sighing in relief at the result and smiling at his reflection shakily. When he came out he found only Cobb remaining. He was anxious to see how Arthur was doing but obliged Cobb as he motioned him towards the chairs. Once Eames collapsed into a chair Cobb began directly, "We will need to keep an eye on Arthur for a while. After being in limbo for so long he will not feel like he belongs here and he will miss whatever he had down there. There is a good chance he will at least feel tempted by the idea of suicide."

Eames was grateful that Dom did not pry about what he had experienced down there. He was also glad that Cobb would do everything in his power to help Arthur readjust, partially because they were such close friends but also due to Cobb's loss of Mal in a similar situation. He respected Cobb's ability to utilize his loss to save someone else, no matter how painful it must be. How many 'what if' situations were circling his head, Eames wondered as Cobb continued. "Ariadne wanted to take care of Arthur but I told her that you will be instead as long as you agree. You two have been through a lot together, including death, and he _will_ need you."

"I plan to do everything I can, Dom," Eames stated seriously, meeting the man's always serious eyes. "You know how I felt before all this shit happened."

Dom nodded and gave a small smile, seemingly content, "Well what are you waiting for? He's staying in room 706. My cell will be on if you need anything!" he yelled as Eames ran out of the warehouse and headed towards the hotel. The entire team had booked rooms there until everyone got some much needed rest. Cobb laughed quietly to himself and spun his totem on the smooth surface of the table. He smiled and let out a relieved sigh when it toppled over and slowed to a stop.

The forger grabbed a handful of entrees as he passed through the hotel's restaurant and shoved them unceremoniously into his mouth as he picked up his room key from the front desk and dashed into the nearest elevator. He made sure to swallow everything before knocking quickly on Arthur's door. When no response came, Cobb's words echoed in his mind and he knocked more frantically, "Arthur, it's me! Open up!"

Nothing.

"I'm serious, open this door _right_ now!" Eames banged on the door so harshly that the skin on his knuckles burned. "Arthur, _please_," he couldn't keep the panic from seeping into his voice.

Nothing.

Eames was halfway through dialling the number for hotel security when he heard the metallic click of the door's lock shifting. A moment later Arthur pulled the door inward, looking at him sadly. "I forgot that I couldn't open the door with a thought anymore," he admitted quietly, stepping aside to let the other man into the room.

"That's alright," Eames breathed a sigh of relief as he walked into the hotel room and shut the door behind him. "I was just worried that…"

"That you would find me dead on the floor?" Arthur asked in a monotone, breezing by the huge tray of food and returning to his place on the room's couch. From the looks of the skid marks on the carpet Eames guessed that Arthur had dragged the couch across the room to look out through the wall of windows at the night cityscape.

Eames swallowed, seeing no reason to lie about his concern, "Yeah."

"I think doing that once is enough of a motivator to keep me from doing it again," Arthur murmured as he sat back on the couch, eyes skimming the busy lit-up streets below filled with bustling and naïve people. Arthur envied their ignorance.

"I'll agree with you on that count," Eames picked up the tray of food and plopped down on the cushiony couch beside Arthur, helping himself to a bit of everything. "Where's Ariadne?"

"After she ordered that food I sent her back to her own room. She kept asking about what it was like down there. You can't blame the kid; she's naturally curious. But I just…"

"Wasn't ready?" Eames supplied.

"I don't know if I'll _ever_ be ready to talk about what happened down there," Arthur admitted quietly, shaking his head in the negative as Eames offered him the tray of food.

"Arthur, I didn't go all the way down to limbo and drag you away from everything just to have you starve to death while watching a city through some windows," he allowed his concern to tint his tone, watching Arthur gaze out through the windows. He looked like there was more than just glass barring him from the city.

Arthur rolled his eyes openly in frustration but took some food anyway, probably just to shut him up. Once they were both full Eames set the tray on the floor and relaxed against the back of the couch, also watching the busy city. He realized that even after his short time in limbo he felt detached from the world beyond the glass. Everyone was busy with their own lives, oblivious and free of this type of suffering. They had no concept of the wonders that the dreamscape could provide, or what you had to sacrifice to return to reality. He could only imagine how much Arthur was struggling right now after being in limbo for so long.

He heard Arthur sigh beside him before he felt a warm weight along his side. Looking down he saw that Arthur had closed the distance and leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. Without a second thought Eames pulled his arm up and wrapped it around Arthur's smaller shoulders, pulling him closer to his warmth. They both stayed like that, quiet and content but neither of them feeling the pulls of sleep yet. Eames weathered his lower lip between teeth, considering, and then decided to hell with it all. "Arthur...there's something I have to tell you."

"Fuck!" Arthur pulled away sharply, trying to stand up from the couch though Eames held him in place. Still, the other man pulled away, cheeks red and eyes downcast, "I'm sorry! It's just…habit."

"It's alright, pet, I don't mind. That's actually what I need to talk to you about." He paused for a moment, second guessing this decision. Arthur sat stiff and silent beside him, ready to bolt. "Listen, I know this isn't the best time to say this but I don't know if there ever will be a right time."

"Just get on with it," Arthur muttered, trying to bring back some of their carefree bickering to hide his nerves.

Eames chuckled despite himself, "Alright, alright, you win," he held up his hands in mock defeat, enjoying the moment of silliness before growing serious again. "You should know that before all this happened, right before we went into the first dream I was working up the courage to tell you how I felt when the job was over." He saw Arthur's raised eyebrow, "Okay fine. I probably would have just shoved you into a wall and kissed you senseless, sue me."

Arthur's lips twitched upwards but he did not fully smile, too wrapped up in his confusion and bewilderment. Realizing that Arthur wasn't going to say anything right away, Eames continued, "I know that I can't offer you what you had in limbo because that wasn't me. And I know that we'll be at different stages in this because of your experiences. But I don't care. All I can offer you is myself and-"

"A chance at new love," Arthur spoke the words that Eames had said on top of the building down in limbo. "But if you felt this way, why didn't you tell me down there?" he searched Eames's face looking for answers despite the room being entirely dark and only lit up by the street lights below.

"I made the decision not to tell you because I didn't want to bargain you into making the choice. I wanted you to make that decision on your own so that if something happened you would have yourself to rely on when things got tough rather than depending upon promises that couldn't be guaranteed," he explained quietly, Cobb's serious expression briefly passing through his mind.

They both sat perfectly still staring at each other for long moments, Eames's offer hanging in the air between them and the cityscape long forgotten. Eames watched excitedly as Arthur slowly moved closer and closed his eyes as he felt the other man's lips softly meet his own. He brought his hands up to tangle in the man's hair and returned the kiss happily.

It wasn't a perfect kiss. They were both awkwardly positioned on the couch and too careful with one another, testing the waters. But when Arthur pulled away they were both grinning stupidly. Eames leaned forward for another kiss but Arthur pulled away, frowning. "I'm not ready," Eames could hear the apology and worry in his tone.

"Mixed signals, love," Eames chided lightly, a sense of hope rather than a sense of dread filling him. "Arthur," he spoke in a warning tone as he saw the other man pulling away, "I'm going to wait. There's no place I'd rather be."

"Really?"

"Yes, you moron, now get back here," Eames smirked victoriously as a smile broke out on Arthur's face and he slid back into his spot beside him. Eames replaced his arm around Arthur's shoulders and held him close like a treasured prize.

He wasn't sure how long they remained there watching the city's nightlife dwindle as time rolled by, but he honestly didn't care enough to keep track. He thought Arthur might have finally drifted off when suddenly he felt the man twisting out of his hold and climbing onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs. Before he could say anything Arthur's lips stole his breath away, one hand running along his scruff while the other held his shoulder for balance.

Not about to complain with this turn of events Eames dropped his hands on Arthur's hips to keep him steady and eagerly returned this new, desperately hungry kiss. When it was a necessity to breathe he pulled away slightly, panting. "I thought we were waiting."

Arthur was also struggling to catch his breath. "I'm tired of waiting. I realized that I've been waiting for over thirty years for this with a shade who cannot hope to compare to the real man," he said, smirking down at him.

"That's what I like to hear," Eames smiled and pulled Arthur into a heated kiss.

When they were finished they both remained there for a long time as they struggled to catch their breath. Finally Eames forced himself off the other man with shaky arms, cleaning them both up while Arthur slipped under the covers. Eames joined him quickly, pulling the man close and kissing him on the top of his head.

He heard Arthur take a breath, ready to speak, so he cut him off, "Don't apologize." He heard Arthur's mouth close with an audible snap, smirking to himself. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear those words coming from your lips, or tell you that I love you. I always tried to show you in a weird way with those looks we'd share across a room or my teasing. I always assumed that it just pissed you off, but at least I had your attention."

"That is the most pathetic thing I have ever heard," Arthur chuckled, tracing his fingers along the arm Eames had wrapped around him. "But..." he continued over the other man's protests, eyes closing as fatigue finally caught up to him, "it worked."

"That's true. Maybe that was my plan all along," he laughed quietly. But when he noticed that Arthur was not laughing with him he leaned forward slightly, making sure not to dislodge him from where Arthur's head was resting on his chest. "Arthur?" The other man let out a quiet snore and nestled further against Eames's heat, dead asleep. "That's a good idea, love." Eames leaned back onto the pillows, glad all the lights were already out as he closed his eyes.

He held Arthur close as he yawned, readily letting sleep take him knowing without a doubt that when he woke up the next day Arthur would be safe in reality and in his arms.


End file.
